Death Watch

by Deborah Lucy

  ‘I wonder if you could shed more light on Greta’s teenage years,’ said Temple.

  ‘I have already given a statement to your other officer, I’m not sure what more I can tell you, really,’ she said in a quiet voice, her hands resting on the table.

  ‘I understand that she left home and went to live with her father, Brett. How old would she have been?’ asked Temple.

  Dianna looked at him suspiciously. ‘Have you spoken to him?’

  ‘Brett Forrester, you mean? Yes, I have. He says she just turned up one day on his doorstep and didn’t return home to you.’

  ‘Yes, that’s fair. We had a row and she left. Eventually, I went to see her there, at his flat …’ Her voice trailed off as she remembered. ‘She opened the door to me and I knew I had lost her forever. She was different. Completely different.’

  ‘How long was it before you went to see her and when she left you?’ asked Temple.

  ‘It was about three months, I suppose. She rang me to tell me where she was straightaway, so I wasn’t overly concerned for her. I was angry with her; she had been difficult so it was a bit of a relief to get some respite from her, which sounds bad, I know. But when I turned up, to take her home …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I knew. I just knew.’ Silence fell on them.

  ‘What did you know, Mrs Forrester?’ ventured Temple, gently.

  ‘It’s actually hard for me to say this, Inspector, but I just knew …’ her voice had dropped to a whisper.

  ‘What did you know?’ pressed Temple.

  ‘She answered the door in one of his shirts. That was all she had on. It was the middle of the afternoon. She thought I was him at the door, although why would he have knocked? She wasn’t pleased to see me, her face was crestfallen, no, embarrassed. Embarrassed to see me, being dressed like that. I walked past her, into his flat. I went from room to room, looking around, looking at his things. It was all very contemporary, bohemian. And then I realized. There was only one bed, one double bed. The sheets were crumpled where she’d just got out of it. I remember looking at her and she looked back at me, at first shame-faced at being caught, but then with almost a mocking look. I’ve never forgotten it. He loves me, she said. He loves me and I love him. It was depraved. Evil. I ran out. There’s no doubt what she meant. They were lovers.’ All the time she spoke, she’d looked down at the table.

  ‘Is there any way you could have been mistaken?’ asked Temple, his mind going back to Alice. She immediately looked up at him.

  ‘No.’

  CHAPTER 12

  KELLY HAD ESTABLISHED contact with Caroline Black who had wanted to see her at once to find out what happened. An hour and a half later, Kelly sat in the bar area, watching the steady stream of passengers filter in and out of the Heathrow Hilton Hotel reception. At the reception desk stood a tall blonde with a mane of highlighted and flicked back hair. Looking in her direction, Kelly stood up and identified herself by waving her hand in the air. Perfectly groomed and smart in her British Airways uniform, Caroline Black gracefully sashayed towards her and introduced herself. Standing and firmly shaking her offered hand, Kelly introduced herself. She noticed that Caroline Black’s eyes were red and swollen from crying.

  ‘I’m sorry to have to meet you in such circumstances, Caroline. I understand you were on your way to New York when Brett Forrester gave you the news, are you sure you are all right to talk so soon?’

  Caroline Black looked expensive; she was gorgeous, with her perfectly made up face, manicured pink painted nails and gently waved shoulder length blonde hair. They both sat down.

  ‘Yes, of course, I just can’t believe it. I just cannot believe that anyone would want to kill Greta. Did you say you were a detective?’ Her voice was soft, yet commanded attention through perfect diction. Kelly felt that it would be easy for her to feel intimidated by Caroline Black but instead, she felt compelled to study her closely, for anything she could pick up and take away for her own benefit. She didn’t meet the likes of Caroline Black in Swindon.

  ‘I’m not a police officer, I’m a civilian investigator. We have some of the same training as detective officers and basically do the same job. That’s why I’ve been sent here to speak to you about Greta. What can you tell me about her?’ Kelly knew she needed to get Caroline on side if she was going to find out all she could.

  Caroline leaned forward, shaking her head. ‘I can’t believe she’s dead, I just can’t. We were like sisters. How did it happen?’ Her eyes brimmed with tears.

  ‘I’m sorry for the shock this has caused you. Greta was found yesterday, by her cleaner, in her bedroom. A pathologist has determined that she was murdered,’ explained Kelly, being careful to follow Temple’s instruction not to reveal the exact nature of Greta’s death.

  ‘I can’t believe it. She was such a lovely person.’

  ‘Well, that’s where you can help our inquiry,’ said Kelly gently. ‘We need to find out as much as we can about Greta and her life in order to catch her killer. If you can tell me what you know about her, it will be a great help. When was the last time you saw or spoke to Greta?’

  ‘About three weeks ago. We didn’t have to speak on the phone every day. Any time we spoke to one another, we just picked up where we’d left off, the time in between didn’t matter. We had busy lives but we caught up with each other when we could – if not by phone, we used FaceTime. I suppose the last time I saw her would have been three weeks ago, I can’t really remember exactly when right now, just what we did.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘We had lunch in the pub, The Phoenix, at Ramsbury.’

  ‘Do you remember what you spoke about, how Greta was that day?’

  ‘She was fine. It was a lovely day, she told me she’d been riding early that morning and I drove up from my home in Newbury to meet her at the pub. We had lunch, we went back to the house, had coffee and sat outside, around the pool.’

  ‘What can you tell me about Greta, her lifestyle, her relationship with her husband, Maxwell?’

  ‘She was lovely, my best friend. We met one another when we were training as air hostesses, we had such a laugh. Sometimes we were able to work together and we travelled around the world. We would borrow each other’s clothes, although she was slightly lighter than me, we shared rooms, went out on the town, had too much to drink … all the things mates do.’

  ‘Did she confide in you?’ asked Kelly.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘What was her relationship like with Maxwell?’

  ‘Maxwell is a great flirt, as was Greta. She had men in the palm of her hand, I mean, look at her, this was us in New York,’ Caroline reached into a red leather bag and produced her phone and a photo of the two together. ‘Those cat’s eyes. She was feline, so striking. She was vibrant, full of life. When we were together, we were mad.’

  Kelly looked at the photo. It was taken in a busy bar, both smiling, facing the camera with their arms around each other’s necks and glasses raised, their faces tanned, surrounded by people. A happy moment caught in time.

  ‘We need to find out who killed her, Caroline, and to do that, we need to know what was going on in her life at that time and find out how she came to be murdered in her own home. Nothing you’ve told me so far indicates that there were any problems, was her life really so perfect?’ Kelly enquired.

  Caroline Black stiffened a little in her chair.

  ‘We all have some problems, even Greta,’ she replied. ‘I need to know what they were – did she have problems with Maxwell, with money? You said she was a flirt, was she having a relationship with anyone other than Maxwell?’

  ‘The thing is – I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?’ asked Caroline.

  ‘Kelly.’

  ‘The thing is, Kelly, I’m not sure that I’m happy talking about her like that. I’ve always felt a bit protective towards her. Will what I say get back to Maxwell?’

  ‘Possibly, it depends what it is. Look, if i
t makes it easier for you, shall I ask you some direct questions? Remember, we need to find out who killed her.’

  ‘I know, I know, but Greta never wanted anyone to get hurt. She’s dead and I just want people to remember that she was a good person.’

  ‘Was there someone else she was seeing?’ asked Kelly.

  ‘There was more than one. Look, she was insecure in her relationship with Maxwell. He is a good looking guy, a pilot. She didn’t just think he was faithful to her, in fact, she thought there was someone else in his life. She knew something was going on. As beautiful as she was, she suspected that he had another woman. She said he was behaving differently, she sensed it. The usual thing at first, a bit distant when he came home, distracted, and then she said things started to go missing. Some of his clothes, his belongings, like cufflinks. Then he said they should get rid of some things as they’d had them for some time. He sold an old MG he had, then he sold his favourite painting which she thought odd. She told me that – asked me what she thought it all meant.’

  ‘What was it like, the painting?’ asked Kelly.

  ‘It was a picture of a white beach, with palm trees and blue sea and sky, painted in the Seychelles, it reminded him of an island he’d once visited.’

  ‘And what did you think?’

  ‘I don’t know. There’s all kinds of things you could read into it, some sort of midlife crisis, wanting to get rid of familiar things, get in new things, I don’t know.’

  Kelly wrote it all down as Caroline continued to speak.

  ‘She regretted giving up work, she missed the lifestyle, the travelling—’

  ‘Why did she give up work?’ Kelly interrupted.

  ‘Personally, I think she found it difficult being married to Maxwell. He’s a good looking guy and because of the lifestyle, she knew that Maxwell would stray. She met him through work, on a long haul flight. They fell in love, got married but they didn’t work together often. He worked long haul flights, there were stopovers in luxury hotels with gorgeous young hostesses. She knew how it went. I think she discovered he was unfaithful pretty early on and I think she found that a real strain. It affected her, I know she was on anti-depressants.’

  ‘So you think she compensated herself with affairs?’

  ‘Sort of. An outsider might describe her as a little needy when it came to men but I blame Maxwell. Yes, I blame Maxwell for that. If he’d given her the attention she deserved there wouldn’t have been other men. They fell at her feet, but I think she only really wanted him. So when he went away, she would just turn her attention to someone else. She was full on and men were flattered of course. But it did get her into some tricky situations.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, for one, Jonathan Silvester, a friend of Maxwell’s. He was a former BA pilot, they used to work together. Jonathan left BA and went into finance. Greta said that Maxwell used him as a financial advisor, put a lot of business his way in terms of stock buying, investments and such like. When Greta gave up work, Jonathan started to visit the house when Maxwell was away.

  ‘I don’t like the guy. He’s arrogant and I didn’t like the way he treated Greta. He hit on her one day when Maxwell was away and at first, Greta said she enjoyed their time together. But when she tried to call it off, he wasn’t at all happy with that. She told me that he threatened to tell Maxwell about her sleeping with him and that he said he would decide when they were over. When he delivered that message, he also forced himself on her.

  ‘She told me he continued to visit her, infrequently dropping by when he knew Maxwell was away and they’d have sex. She said he was forceful if she attempted to stop him. And she let him get away with it. It really annoyed me the way she let him use her like that. It was as if she just resigned herself to the situation.’

  ‘So you’re saying that Jonathan Silvester visited her for sex when Maxwell was away and Greta continued to let this happen? Did she actually tell you it was against her will?’

  ‘That’s what made it difficult for me to understand. She let him do that to her. She didn’t seem to want to try too hard to deter him. When I said to her to not let it happen, she said, it’s only sex, she just didn’t want Maxwell to know about it. He even had a key to the house, he’d let himself in and she’d suddenly find him sitting in the lounge or even standing by the side of her bed. The bloke’s a complete shit.’

  ‘Was there more than one man?’

  ‘Yes. This was why she wanted to call it off with Jonathan Silvester. She fell for the builder who they hired to build their extension. He was fit, walking around with his shirt off all last summer – even I was tempted. She really liked him, though. She actually talked about leaving Maxwell and she said he talked about leaving his wife and kids. They were both in deep – it was serious. Trouble was, he lived in the village, at Ramsbury, and when the job was finished, he struggled to find the time to see Greta. When it ended, she took it really hard.’

  ‘We’ll have to see him, what’s his name?’ asked Kelly.

  ‘Mike Cooper.’

  CHAPTER 13

  TEMPLE SAT OPPOSITE Dr Brigitte Jacques, senior psychiatrist at Salisbury Hospital. He hoped she might go against the usual stereotype when the police wanted information from the medical profession and lend herself towards a shared understanding between two professionals which would result in the disclosure of the contents of Greta’s file. However, as Temple outlined the circumstances of the case and the request for information, the doctor stared back at him seemingly, he felt, unimpressed with him both as an individual and his profession.

  She was shocked, of course, at the murder of her patient but death, she told him, did not signal open access to what were essentially highly sensitive and confidential patient files. She didn’t care how forthcoming Greta’s GP had been, she was not a GP and this was not a surgery.

  Experience told him that getting doctors and nurses in A&E departments, their so-called health care ‘partners’, to disclose anything about patients, was usually uncooperative bordering on obstructive. Temple knew they guarded their information more effectively than anything MI5 could achieve. ‘Patient confidentiality’ may as well be a euphemism for ‘state secret’, he thought as he tried again to negotiate disclosure of what was contained in Greta’s notes.

  ‘Look, I found anti-depressants at the house,’ said Temple, ‘and Greta’s GP confirmed that she had been prescribed them for a mild psychiatric disorder. All I want to find out is, did she give you any indications as to the history behind her condition?’

  The doctor remained silent and looked back at him expectantly. He realized the pressing nature of his inquiries were not going to make any impression on her. She had what he needed and Temple acutely felt the inequality of his situation. He pressed on.

  ‘My inquiries indicate that she may have had an incestuous relationship with her father. In fact, I think her relationships with men were complicated in general and it would be useful to know anything that can help me with my investigation,’ Temple explained.

  As he outlined the case, Temple felt as though he was on the couch himself, being assessed. She continued to look at him in silence as he spoke, as if weighing his every word. She made no movement, not a nod of the head, not a gesture, except keeping direct eye contact. He felt as though she was looking right through him, into him, into his mind. As much as he wanted the information she could tell him, he started to feel as though he wanted to get out from under her gaze more. For some reason, she unnerved him. He wanted out of the room but knew he had to put up a better argument for the facts he wanted and knew she had. He shifted in his chair.

  ‘I strongly suspect that her killer may well be in her inner family circle, certainly, it’s an avenue I have to explore thoroughly and any information that you can give me that enables me to arrive at a conclusion sooner rather than later, will be an obvious advantage,’ said Temple, trying but failing to match the doctor’s coolness. He started to sound desperate. At last
, she spoke again.

  ‘You can’t have any access to my notes or the file itself. But, hearing what you say,’ she said, slowly, ‘I am willing to relay to you a little of what I know. She did say that she had a very loving and intense relationship with her father. She adored him. One day, she came home to find him with another woman, her own age she said, in bed. By this time she was about nineteen. In hindsight, she could see that he had deliberately wanted her to find him thus, and that this coincided with him encouraging her to get a job and see the world.

  ‘She then became an air hostess. This was the trigger, in my opinion, for her separation anxiety; such had been the intensity of their relationship, the shock of seeing him with someone else and him rejecting her, as she saw it. There were also underlying issues with her mother and an early sexual experience with a priest that was non-penetrative. The separation anxiety manifested itself again later, when separated for short durations from her husband who was a pilot. She strongly suspected that he wasn’t faithful and again, felt feelings of rejection. This, coupled with the other issues I’ve mentioned, escalated into cyclothymia – a mild form of bipolar.’

  ‘What did she say regarding the relationship with her father – how did their relationship develop?’ asked Temple.

  ‘That’s all I’m prepared to say – which, I think, is more than adequate.’

  ‘Her husband – what did she say about him – his treatment of her?’ Temple persisted.

  ‘As I say, I will not divulge any more information. The things that were disclosed to me were done so in the knowledge that there was complete confidentiality – but under the exceptional circumstances, I have complied with your wish,’ replied Dr Jacques.

  ‘So these things are actually contained in your file?’

  ‘Yes, they are.’

  ‘Did she say anything about a man called Jonathan Silvester?’ asked Temple. After a short silence in which she had thought through her reply, the doctor answered.